


Fires

by dognamedfrank



Series: Fires!Verse [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman Beyond, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Gen, Implied Torture, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 03:03:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dognamedfrank/pseuds/dognamedfrank
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim gets out of the hospital when he’s 18, not because he’s mentally healthy but because the law says as an adult he can’t be held on something he was admitted for as a minor.  Rather than returning to the manor, Tim moves in with Jason.  </p><p>The first month Tim is out of the hospital, the fire department is called 12 times...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This began as the result of a comment on a tumblr post; basically, it was pointed out that the events of Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker and Batman: Under the Redhood could potentially be set in the same reality, and this !verse grew from there.
> 
> If you would like a more in-depth explanation of the concepts explored, see the end for more notes.
> 
> Note: This is has not been beta-ed so any mistakes are mine. PLEASE point them out if you find them, so I can fix them...

The first time he leaves Tim alone, after Tim gets out of the hospital and comes to live with him, Jason has a meeting with a couple of dealers who are trying to gain power in his territory.  It’s not so much a meeting really, but a warning that they better pay up or stay out.  Jason doesn’t think he’ll be gone longer than an hour, hour and a half at the most.  He tells Tim as much as he’s waved out the door by the boy, looking so much younger than eighteen in Jason’s too-big sweats.

Jason’s in the middle of his “meeting” when the call comes.  He turns all his communication devices off during meetings, its best to have all his attention on the morally bankrupt individuals who work for him, except the phone whose number is down on about a zillion forms as Tim’s emergency contact.  So the trilling and vibrations coming from his jacket pocket are definitely a good reason to use some force and end this meeting early.

It takes Jason less then fifteen minutes to get changed into civvies and get to the hospital.  It takes another fifteen minutes to get the asshole at the desk to tell him where Tim is, and a half an hour of sitting in the waiting room feeling useless before a doctor comes out to tell him what the hell’s going on.

“Mr. Todd?  Peter Todd?”  The doc is in his early forties, with bags under his eyes that say he didn’t become a doctor for the money; it’s rare to find a doc who actually gives a shit working at St. Bart’s, but it happens.

“Yeah, yeah… I’m, that’s me.”  Jason’s got enough training not to show his nerves, but he’s also aware enough to know in the real world people get shaken up by medical emergencies; so he puts his acting lessons (thank you Alfred) to use.

The doc grasps Jason hand gives it a firm shake, “I’m Doctor Winters.  Mr. Todd, first I just want to let you know that Timothy is going to be just fine.  He had a little bit of trouble breathing because of the smoke inhalation, but we’ve got that under control.  I’d like to keep him under observation tonight just in case, but it looks like he should be good to go home tomorrow.” 

Jason doesn’t even have to fake confusion when he asks, “Smoke inhalation?”

Doctor Winters looks a bit taken aback, but schools his features and soldiers on, “I’m sorry, I thought you’d been informed… it seems there was a fire at Mr. Drake’s place of residence.  He was asleep when the fire started, neighbors called it in.  He was brought in by ambulance after the fire rescue squad found him.”

It feels like a lead weight has dropped into his stomach, and Jason can’t help stumbling a little at the thought of Tim asleep in a burning apartment.  Tim’s anxiety meds zonk him out for hours at a time; sometimes nothing can wake him up until the pills have left his system.  What if no one had called it in?  Tim could be dead and Jason… he’d be alone all over again.

“Can I see him?”  Jason doesn’t recognize his own voice but it doesn’t matter, because Winters is nodding and leading him to Tim.  Tim.  His poor broken bird.  And dammit, Jason should have been there with Tim.   Someone should have been with Tim.  He’s not ready to be alone, to do things on his own.  Why didn’t Jason think about this?  Why hadn’t he realized something bad would happen if he left Tim alone?  Tim.

Tim is unbearably tiny in the hospital bed.  His skin is so pale, almost the same color as the white sheets; his black hair, just starting to grow past regulated length, is stark against his pillow.  Machines are beeping in time with Tim’s pulse, and he’s hooked up to oxygen and some kind of IV.  He’s unconscious or just sleeping, but either way, he’s so still.  It breaks Jason’s heart a little to see the kid in a hospital again, so soon after getting out.  He tries to reassure himself that this hospital stay won’t set Tim back, ‘cause it’s nothing like the psych ward, except for how it’s exactly the same.

Tim’s eyes flutter open when Jason grabs his hand and Tim looks so scared, Jason’s heart breaks just a little.

“Jay,” Tim croaks his voice rough from the smoke, “Jay I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I- I wasn’t feeling… I got scared and you were gone and I just took the Xanax so I could calm down, but I fell asleep and I must have forgotten the iron and I-” his voice breaks, “don’t make me go back Jay, I don’t wanna go back, please.”

 “No, kiddo.  No, you just, you just got a little sick from the smoke so they brought you to the hospital.  You’re gonna have to stay here overnight, just to be sure you’re alright, but they said you should be able to come home tomorrow, alright?  Don’t worry no one’s sending you back.”

The relief on the kid’s face makes Jason feel a little sick, he hates that Tim is so messed up he thinks Jason would send him away for an accident.  An expensive accident mind you, and Jason’s gonna be up all night finding and furnishing a new apartment, but still not something he’d send Tim back to the loony-bin for.  Jason lets himself pet Tim’s hair for a moment.

“Get some sleep kiddo,” he tells Tim, continuing to stoke the boys hair.  He waits until Tim’s breathing evens back out before pulling out his phone.  He’s got more than a few favors to call in before Tim’s released tomorrow; it’s gonna be a long night.


	2. Two

The second fire happens while Jason’s picking up groceries, he’s gone for a half hour tops.  By the time he gets back to the apartment most there are about four fire trucks, an ambulance, and a half dozen police cars parked in front of the building.   Jason grabs the first police officer he sees and demands that he be taken to someone with some answers.  There are plenty of people who want to hurt Red Hood, and if any of them have figured out that Hood and Jason are one and the same…well this fire might not have been an accident.

Jason’s officer leads him to a short man in his late forties or early fifties, with a haggard expression and enough grey hairs that he’s probably a strait cop, who heaves out a sigh as Jason approaches and asks, “Can I help you sir?”

“Yeah, you wanna tell me what happened here?  I go to the grocery and I come home to find a load a smoke and my building on fire.”  Jason throws as much of his pre-Bruce street accent into the words as he can, won’t do to make people suspicious and talking like one of the moneyed-set in this part of town is a sure fire way to do just that.  Jason drops his bags by his feet and the man holds out his hand for Jason to shake but he doesn’t take it, choosing instead to cross his arms over his chest against the chill in the fall air.

“Detective Johnson,” the man states dropping his hand to his side but he doesn’t look offended, “and you are?”

“Peter Todd, I live here, and they’re telling me I can’t go in.”

The detective nods, “I’m afraid they’re right, son, no one can go in until the fire brigade clears the building.”

Jason scowls, but lets it go in favor of trying to garner more useful information, “You know where it started?  My roommate was home and he’s kinda sick so…” Jason lets the statement hang in hopes that the story of his sick roommate will pull more information from Johnson.  It works like a charm, concern slides over the man’s features and he asks for a name.  Jason gives him Tim’s name and after a short conversation over his walkie Johnson tells Jason he has some news about Tim.

“Mr. Todd, it seems your roommate was present when the fire started, he’s the one who called the department.  He’s over at the ambulance station right now being treated for some minor burns and giving a statement but as soon as that’s done I can have someone take you to him.”

Jason gets that same leaden feeling as before.  Dammit, he should have known it was Tim.  It isn’t the first time and it probably won’t be the last if Tim is going to be left alone for any amount of time, and Jason wouldn’t even mind the damn fires if they didn’t put Tim at so much risk.

“What happened, exactly,” Jason asks, because it’s worth a shot and he needs to know Tim isn’t doing this shit on purpose.  Not that Jason really thinks he is, but.  Tim isn’t well, is all.

“It seems to have been an oven fire?   They’re actually quite common, nothing too serious; though perhaps you could remind your roommate to keep an eye on things when he decides to cook?”  Johnson sounds at once exasperated and amused.  So Tim didn’t set it on purpose then.  And not a huge amount of damage either.   Good.   Jason really wasn’t looking forward to moving twice in one month.

“It alright if I see him now?”  Jason puts his best pleading look to use, Johnson makes a call over the walkie, and the next minute an officer is leading Jason to the ambulance.

Tim is still in Jason’s sweats, and looks even smaller and younger than before with the soot smeared on his face and his hands wrapped in gauze.  When he sees Jason he looks relieved for a moment before his face crumbles and he starts to sob.  Jason doesn’t think just moves and scoops Tim up into his arms, shushes him, and glares when the EMTs try to tell him he needs to let them finish.  They can finish just as soon as his Timmy knows he isn’t in trouble, that he’s done nothing wrong, and not a moment before.

Jason runs his hand through Tim’s hair and kisses his forehead, “It’s alright Tim, it was just an accident.  Everything’s gonna be fine.”

When his breathing finally gets back under control, Tim pushes Jason away and wipes his face with his sleeves.  He takes a deep shuddering breath and lets the EMT finish wrapping his hand.

“I forgot about the pizza.  I put it in so it’d be done when you got home, but I forgot to set the timer.”  Tim looks so ashamed, and Jason’s heart clenches.

“It was an accident, kiddo, no big deal.  We’ll order a pizza when they finish up,” Jason tries to smile, but he thinks it must look forced.  He’s going to have to figure out a way to keep an eye on Tim, even when he isn’t home; if they aren’t careful next time could be the last time.

The EMT say’s Tim’s good to go just as Detective Johnson heads over to let them know the building has been declared safe to return to.  He hands Jason the grocery bags he must have left at the detective’s car and gives them both a smile before walking away.  Jason shifts all the bags to one hand and wraps the other arm around Tim’s shoulder to lead him into the building. 

He’s still gotta put the groceries away and clean up whatever mess has been made of the kitchen.  Then he needs to figure out how he’s going to keep running his part of the city and not leave Tim in the house alone.  He could have someone monitor the apartment when he’s gone, but just who is he going to trust to do that?  Jason sighs, smiles at Tim when he looks up concerned, and pulls the kid in closer with the arm slung around his shoulders, and reminds himself the kid is worth it.


	3. Interlude: Alfred

Alfred starts visiting three days after Jason and Tim moved into their (second) new apartment.  Tim is still a little hoarse from the smoke inhalation and Jason is a lot frazzled from trying to put an entire home together and take care of Tim and be a criminal mastermind.  So when Alfred shows up at the door bearing food, Jason goes with it.  He doesn't even have the energy to worry that Alfred might be there on behalf of Bruce.

Not that Jason really thinks that of Alfred.  Al always treated Jason well when he was at the manor, talked to him like an adult, made him soup when he was ill.  A part of Jason knows Alfred would never show up on one of his boys’ doorstep with food out of anything other than genuine care and concern.  Even Bruce doesn't have the kind of sway over Alfred that would get in the way of him taking care of his family.

So Alfred shows up two or three times that week, to make sure his boys are relatively healthy and well fed, and that their home is (relatively) clean.  During the first couple of visits, Al just brings food over and asks after the boys.  Then one morning he shows up with clean laundry that neither boy had noticed was missing. Jason appreciates the thought, he does, but he can't help feeling bad that Alfred is doing so much for them when Jason hadn't even had the courtesy to visit the man when he returned to Gotham. 

Tim, on the other hand, is a bit offended when he figures out what is going on.  Jason worries for half a second that Tim might throw a fit about how much Alfred is doing for them; then he remembers who his baby bird  _is_  and starts worrying that Tim might think Alfred has stepped in because Tim isn't doing a good enough job taking care of Jason, instead.  Fortunately Alfred is Alfred, so he picks up on Tim’s unspoken discomfort with the situation almost immediately and switches tactics so fast Jason’s head spins.

The second week in the new apartment starts with Tim actively avoiding Alfred, Alfred very carefully assessing the situation whilst washing dishes and cleaning the bathroom, and Jason trying to decide if he should tell Tim that he’s doing great at the domestic-thing or if bringing it up will just make things worse.  Wednesday, however, Jason gets home and is greeted by the scent of a Moroccan stew that Alfred made him all of the time at the manor.  When Jason enters the kitchen, he is possibly more surprised than he’s ever been in his life by the sight of Tim in an apron covered in flour helping a much-less-messy Alfred kneed Khobz dough. When the three of them sit down to dinner an hour or so later, Jason has trouble containing the orgasmic sounds the food inspires in him.

 Alfred continues his lessons on domesticity for the rest of the week, and Tim starts to build up pretty respectable skill sets in both cooking and cleaning.  Jason has never seen Tim look so proud of himself, and he can’t help but hope that things will continue to be this good.


	4. Three

Jason called in some favors, so that the apartment’s fire detector would send an alert strait to the local fire department.  He didn’t want there to be a delay between the start of a fire and the building’s alarms picking it up, not if it could mean Tim’s life.  Jason makes sure Tim knows about the alterations to the alarm system, because he tries never to lie to Tim; if he did, he’d be no better than Bruce, and he doesn’t want to be anything like Bruce if he can help it.

Redirecting the fire alarm turns out to be one of Jay’s better ideas, because just about a week after Alfred starts teaching Tim to cook, there is a series of small oven and stove fires from Tim losing focus while he’s cooking.  The first time the local fire-crew shows up, Tim answers to door with a sheepish expression and a sheet of charcoaled-cookies in his oven-mittened hands. 

After about the fourth call or so, the local fire department’s crews start getting into little squabbles over who GETS to go check on Jason and Tim’s apartment when an alarm goes off.  A few of the firefighters have a little bit of a crush on Tim (with his shy demeanor, stuttered apologies “for the inconvenience,” and his big blue eyes).  None of them would actively pursue Tim though; in part because they the guy Tim lives with is kind of terrifying (and possibly the kid’s boyfriend), and in part because there’s something just… off… enough about Tim that it would seem like taking advantage.

The firemen (and women) that don’t actively have a crush on Tim see him as something of a little brother, a child who needs their care.  A few of them even question Jason’s motives, his relationship with Tim.  The kid’s obviously got some issues, they say, do you really think what you’re doing is appropriate?  Can he even really consent?

Jason is defensive at first; annoyed that he’s being so obvious about his feelings that people who have met him a handful of times can see it.  He gets that these guys are actually good people.  They take their duties as public servants seriously, and they’re truly worried that Tim might not be safe.  He still doesn’t like it, and he’d rather they just drop the subject.  So Jason tells them the truth; there is nothing going on between Jason and Tim that would require the ability to consent.   He figures, they will either believe him or they won’t; if they don’t, well, they’ll just have to suck it up and ask Tim if he feels unsafe.

It isn’t hard for Jason to notice that Tim likes these well-meaning big-brother types a little less than the other firemen though he tries not to show it, because that would be rude, and Tim avoids rudeness at all costs.  Jason pretty much can’t blame the kid, he doesn’t like them much either.  Jay thinks Tim probably likes them less because they remind him of Dick.  (Dick, who hasn’t shown up even once since Tim got out of the hospital.  Even though he claimed Tim was still his little brother, and that he would always love him.  If Jason sees Dickiebird anytime soon, he’s gonna deck him on principle for abandoning his so-called baby brother.  So maybe Jason’s projecting here.) 

One night, the sixth time the department’s been out in just over a week, Jason walks in on what is possibly both the funniest and saddest thing he has ever witnessed.  There are three members of the GCFD standing outside the apartment when he walks up, all wearing looks of utter shock and confusion.  They are covered by the detritus what may have once been blueberry muffins, before they were burned to a crisp.  Muffins, both whole and in pieces, lie on the floor surrounding the men and, Jason notices, the muffin tray is a few feet from the nearest fireman.  He is sporting some shiny looking burns on his hands, probably from trying to block the fresh-from-the-oven metal pan as it flew towards his face.

The three men greet Jason in the vague fashion of people suffering from shock as he picks the still-warm muffin sheet up off the floor.

“So,” Jason tries to keep the amusement from his voice, it may or may not work, “Wanna tell me what you did to piss him off?”

The man with the burns, the unit leader, blinks at Jason for a moment before answering, “We just wanted to make sure he was safe.  I mean… you can hardly blame us for worrying about a person with his… difficulties.” 

Jason nods and tries to look sympathetic, tries not to laugh.  Tim doesn’t take well to people insinuating that he is incapable of anything, so Jason had Tim would get a little pissy at the idea that he was being taken advantage of.  He hadn’t quite imagined that Tim would start throwing muffins over it, so that’s just a bonus.  Jason thanks the men for their time and bids them goodnight before heading inside to see if he can catch his Tim in the midst of a fit of righteous fury and listen to a rant about Tim’s perfectly-adequate-thank-you-very-much ability to take care of himself.

What Jason doesn’t expect to find is total darkness.  Every light in the apartment has been shut off, and all of the drapes have been pulled to block the light pollution of the city.   Jason has never been so glad he was trained to work in total darkness as he is making his way toward the master bedroom.  As his eyes adjust to the infinitesimal amount of light, he can just make out the lump under the covers of his bed.

“Tim,” Jason calls cautiously from the doorway.  Tim sometimes forgets where he is, who he is, and reacts to everyone as a threat.  Jay would rather not have another knife go through his shoulder, thanks.

The lump moves a little, and Jason is horrified to hear a sob escape the pile of blankets.  He is on the bed in an instant, his own safety be damned, pulling the shaking form of his little bird into his lap.  Tim immediately buries his face in Jason’s shoulder, and another wet sob forces its way from the boy’s throat.

“Tim.  Timmy, sweetheart,” Jason tries to pull Tim’s face away from his shoulder with little success, “Tim, I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.  What happened Tim?  Why are you crying, Tim, what happened.”

Stay calm, Jason reminds himself, you can’t calm him down if you aren’t calm.  Keep saying his name; remind him that he is Tim, not the construct that the Joker built, not JJ.  Get him talking, find out what triggered the episode.  All of the things the psychiatrists and therapist have taught Jay over the years, all the tools they’ve given him to help keep Tim safe, are playing on a loop in his brain as he tries to shift the boy’s face away from his shoulder once more.

This time, Tim follows Jason’s coaxing hands.  Tim’s eyelashes are clumped together with his tears, his face puffy from crying; snot is running from his left nostril towards his mouth but he makes no move to wipe it away.  When Tim blinks a few last tears are squeezed from his eye and roll toward his chin.  As Jason brushes the tears away with his thumb, Tim reopens his eyes.

“What happened, baby?”  Jason keeps his voice soft and level, and he begins to rub soothing circles on the boys too-thin back.  Tim sucks in a deep breath that hitches with the remains of sobs, brings his hands up to grip Jason’s shirt, and drops his eyes.

“I—they, th-they…” Tim stops and takes another huge breath, this one less shakey than the last, before trying his explanation again.

“They, the firemen, they came in like they do… when I forget stuff?”

Here Tim meets Jason’s eyes for a split second, assuring that Jason is following his train of thought.  When Jason nods, Tim continues his story, “They came in, and Larson, you know Larson the—the unit chief?  He said.  He said he had been wanting a chance to talk to me.  That he was worried about me, and I thought.  I thought he meant because of the fire alarms?  Because I keep setting them off with the oven and the iron and stuff; so I said that that was what he was here for, to keep me safe.”

Tim looks at Jason again, when Jason lets out a snort, and smiles sheepishly at his joke before continuing to recount the evening’s events, “And he didn’t laugh, which is fine, because I’m not great at jokes.  But then he says, ‘This is serious Timothy.  We think that your current living situation is unsafe.’ And I just… I just didn’t know what to think Jay, and I asked him what he meant.”

Tim sucked in another breath and his words began to gain speed and volume as he recounted more and more upsetting memories of the nights events, “And he says, ‘That fellow, Todd?  How long have you been dating him?  Since before you were hospitalized, or after?’  And I told them, that we didn’t really know each other until I got… until I had to go to the hospital, and he started getting the mad look.”

By this point Tim has started shaking again, and Jason considers telling Tim they can go over it later to avoid letting the boy work himself into another crying jag.  When Jason next sees Tim’s eyes however, he is met with cold anger, not fear or sadness.  Jason nods for Tim to continue, Tim needs to get this anger out before it festers.

“And Larson’s partner, Whittemore buts in and says, ‘Is Todd forcing you to do anything, is he making you do stuff you don’t wanna do?  We can get you somewhere safe.’  And I got so mad, and I felt sick to my stomach and I didn’t think, I just told them all to get out.  I think I yelled at them… I don’t… I don’t really remember what I said.  I was just so mad.  And I was throwing the muffins at them and they were trying to calm me down but I wasn’t listening, I just kept yelling, and I ran out of muffins, so I threw the pan at Larson and slammed the door shut,” Tim’s voice has gotten steely and his grip on Jason’s shirt has twisted the fabric in a way that it isn’t likely to come back from.  Jason just keeps rubbing Tim’s back, alternating between larger and smaller circles, and trying to keep the boy as calm as possible.

When Tim has been silent for a few moments and it’s clear he has finished talking, Jason is still confused as to how this led to Tim crying in the dark.

“So you got mad at them for implying that I’m a less than stellar guy,” Jason starts trying to keep his tone light, and is met with a nod from Tim, “how did you end up crying though, sweetheart?”

Tim opens his mouth for a moment before closing it again.  He looks at the sheets, at the dresser to the left of the bed; he tilts his head back and gazes at the ceiling for a moment.  The whole time, he continues to twist the cotton of Jason’s shirt tighter and tighter around his thin fingers.  After almost a minute of silence he finally looks back at Jason.

“I was really mad, at first,” Tim starts, “but then… I realized –“

Tim cuts himself off and returns his gaze to the sheets bunched in his lap, so Jason places a hand under Tim’s chin and applies gentle pressure until the boy is looking at him properly once more.  Tim sighs, and starts talking once more.

“I realized, that… it’s my fault people think mean things about you—“ Jason tries to stop Tim there, but he boy release one hand full of Jay’s shirt and uses the hand to cover Jay’s mouth instead as he continues, “If I weren’t sick.  If I were… normal still, nobody would ever think you taking care of me was bad.  But, now, since I’m all… messed up, they think you must be a bad guy.  Because nice guys, normal guys, don’t want to take care of someone this messed up.  Not unless they knew them before they got messed up; and even then they don’t really want to do it.  It’s obligation.  And people are so closed minded, and I was just… frustrated.”  Tim stops again; he drops his hand from Jason’s mouth, his body sags in Jason’s lap, and exhaustion creeps into his features.

Jason’s chest tightens as he tries to think of a way to counter Tim’s interpretation of the situation.  The problem is, Tim is smart, and he’s right about this one.  Or as right as he can be, without all of the facts.   To outsiders Tim is broken, incapable of making decisions for himself, incapable of understanding the motives of the people around him, simply because he has experienced trauma, because he is mentally ill.  Outsiders will never believe that Tim can make solid decisions regarding his personal relationships when Tim can’t even remember to set a timer on the over, and they will always see Jason as a predator.

If Jason is honest with himself, they’re right.  He doesn’t have any malicious intent, but that doesn’t make his feelings for Tim acceptable by any means.  People, other people, will never understand why Jason wants Tim.  Because they can’t see past Tim’s illness to the brilliant, interesting, wonderful person he is.  Because Jason shouldn’t be trying to kid himself into believing that Tim’s illness is somehow irrelevant to Tim’s possible romantic relationships.

Jason pulls Tim tighter against his chest, winds his arms around the boy’s small frame and just holds on.  Tim brings the hand not still clutching Jason’s shirt up and pets at Jason’s hair.  Jason presses his face into the juncture of Tim’s neck and shoulder and breathes in deep through his nose; the scent of three-days-worth of sweat and the barely-there remnants of Tim’s body wash and shampoo fill Jason’s nose.  He never wants to let go.

“I love you, Timmy,” Jason whispers, lips moving against Tim’s skin and muffling Jason’s words.  Tim clutches Jason tighter for a second.

“I love you, too, Jay,” Tim’s voice is soft but sure.  Jason lets out a shuddery sigh. 

“No, Tim,” Jason pulls back, lifts Tim off his lap and puts him down on the bed.  He rubs his hands over his face a few times, trying to psych himself up for the big reveal.  Tim deserves the truth.

“Tim, I—I’m in love with you.  I don’t love you like a brother, or a friend.  I’m in love with you.  I have been since… well, since before you even got out of the hospital.  I just… you need to know that.  I shouldn’t have lied, I should have told—” Tim cuts him off by placing a finger softly over Jason’s lips for a moment before letting it fall.  Jason swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dryer than it’s ever been.  He can’t take his eyes off of Tim’s, no matter how much he wants to hide from the boy.

Tim has his legs folded under him, his weight resting back on his heels.  Tim reaches out and takes one of Jason’s hands in both of his; Jason studies their entwined hands for a moment, tries to wait patiently for Tim’s response.  Jason’s hands are broader, larger all around, with blunt fingers covered in a multitude of tiny scars.  His nails are dirty, jagged; the warm olive of his skin is made darker by the near white of Tim’s.  Tim’s fingers are long, slender, the flesh pristine; they were the fingers of a musician, before Joker broke them over and over, now they ache whenever it rains or its cold outside.  There is flour under Tim’s nails, blueberry juice stains his cuticles. 

“I already knew that Jay,” Tim’s voice in the silence, as much as his words, startles Jason.  When he looks up and meets Tim’s eyes, the tiny crooked smile Jason loves so much has spread across Tim’s face.  His cheeks are still stained from tears and his eyes are puffy and still a little red from crying; he has snot drying and crusty under his nose and smeared across his cheek. 

“I love you, too,” Tim’s voice is soft, but his smile stays in place.

“I know I’m kind of a mess most of the time,” Tim holds up a hand to stop Jason’s protests, “but I know that I love you.  And I know you love me.  I’m crazy, not an idiot.”

Jason smiles back and laces his fingers with Tim’s, squeezes softly, “So, what you’re saying is… you’re not going to move out because I’m a creeper?”

Tim lets out an abortive huff that Jason has come to recognize as the Tim-version of a belly-laugh.

“Basically,” Tim deadpans, the effect is ruined, however, when a yawn almost immediately follows.  Jason’s take-care-of-Timmy instincts kick in almost before the yawn is over.

“You need to sleep, and I need to sleep, and…” Jason pauses to collect himself, climbing off the bed to stand, “this is a conversation that can wait until we’re both well rested.”

Tim snorts indelicately, but is already crawling up the bed toward the pillows.  He flops down with a sigh, and Jason pulls the covers up to the boy’s shoulder.  He turns to leave, to head to the second bedroom where he should stay until they figure this thing out, but Tim grabs his hand.

“Jay,” Tim’s voice is already taking on the soft-slurring quality of near sleep, “stay here?  ‘Til I fall ‘sleep?”

So Jason climbs onto the opposite side of the bed and lies down on top of the covers.  As soon as Jason lies down, Tim grabs his hand again and draws Jason’s arm over his body to curl around his waist.  Jason means to let go, to get up and got to the other bedroom, just as soon as Tim’s asleep.  He does, really, but between one breath and the next, Jason himself is asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently working on part four, hopefully it will be finished and posted soon...

**Author's Note:**

> There is more than a little of this verse rattling around my tumblr, all of which can be found here:
> 
> http://dogsnameisfrank.tumblr.com/tagged/stuff%20I%20wrote
> 
> or by searching the tag: stuff I wrote
> 
>  
> 
> This includes the not!fic that started it all.


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